Windsor Castle
Page 2
II.
Of Bryan Bowntance, the Host of the Garter--Of the Duke of Shoreditch--Of the Bold Words uttered by Mark Fytton, the Butcher, and how he was cast into the Vault of the Curfew Tower.
Turning off on the right, the earl and his companion continued todescend the hill until they came in sight of the Garter--a snug littlehostel, situated immediately beneath the Curfew Tower.
Before the porch were grouped the earl's attendants, most of whomhad dismounted, and were holding their steeds by the bridles. Atthis juncture the door of the hostel opened, and a fat jolly-lookingpersonage, with a bald head and bushy grey beard, and clad in a brownserge doublet, and hose to match, issued forth, bearing a foaming jug ofale and a horn cup. His appearance was welcomed by a joyful shout fromthe attendants.
"Come, my masters!" he cried, filling the horn, "here is a cup of stoutWindsor ale in which to drink the health of our jolly monarch, bluffKing Hal; and there's no harm, I trust, in calling him so."
"Marry, is there not, mine host;" cried the foremost attendant. "I spokeof him as such in his own hearing not long ago, and he laughed at mein right merry sort. I love the royal bully, and will drink his healthgladly, and Mistress Anne Boleyn's to boot."
And he emptied the horn.
"They tell me Mistress Anne Boleyn is coming to Windsor with the kingand the knights-companions to-morrow--is it so?" asked the host, againfilling the horn, and handing it to another attendant.
The person addressed nodded, but he was too much engrossed by the hornto speak.
"Then there will be rare doings in the castle," chuckled the host; "andmany a lusty pot will be drained at the Garter. Alack-a-day! how timesare changed since I, Bryan Bowntance, first stepped into my father'sshoes, and became host of the Garter. It was in 1501--twenty-eight yearsago--when King Henry the Seventh, of blessed memory, ruled the land, andwhen his elder son, Prince Arthur, was alive likewise. In that year theyoung prince espoused Catherine of Arragon, our present queen, and soonafterwards died; whereupon the old king, not liking--for he loved histreasure better than his own flesh--to part with her dowry, gave her tohis second son, Henry, our gracious sovereign, whom God preserve! Folkssaid then the match wouldn't come to good; and now we find they spokethe truth, for it is likely to end in a divorce."
"Not so loud, mine host!" cried the foremost attendant; "here comes ouryoung master, the Earl of Surrey."
"Well, I care not," replied the host bluffly. "I've spoken no treason.I love my king; and if he wishes to have a divorce, I hope his holinessthe Pope will grant him one, that's all."
As he said this, a loud noise was heard within the hostel, and a man wassuddenly and so forcibly driven forth, that he almost knocked down BryanBowntance, who was rushing in to see what was the matter. The personthus ejected, who was a powerfully-built young man, in a leatherndoublet, with his muscular arms bared to the shoulder, turned his rageupon the host, and seized him by the throat with a grip that threatenedhim with strangulation. Indeed, but for the intervention of the earl'sattendants, who rushed to his assistance, such might have been his fate.As soon as he was liberated, Bryan cried in a voice of mingled rage andsurprise to his assailant, "Why, what's the matter, Mark Fytton?--areyou gone mad, or do you mistake me for a sheep or a bullock, that youattack me in this fashion? My strong ale must have got into your addlepate with a vengeance.
"The knave has been speaking treason of the king's highness," said thetall man, whose doublet and hose of the finest green cloth, as well asthe how and quiverful of arrows at his back, proclaimed him anarcher--"and therefore we turned him out!"
"And you did well, Captain Barlow," cried the host.
"Call me rather the Duke of Shoreditch," rejoined the tall archer; "forsince his majesty conferred the title upon me, though it were but injest, when I won this silver bugle, I shall ever claim it. I am alwaysdesignated by my neighbours in Shoreditch as his grace; and I requirethe same attention at your hands. To-morrow I shall have my comrades,the Marquises of Clerkenwell, Islington, Hogsden, Pancras, andPaddington, with me, and then you will see the gallant figure we shallcut."
"I crave your grace's pardon for my want of respect," replied the host."I am not ignorant of the distinction conferred upon you at the lastmatch at the castle butts by the king. But to the matter in hand. Whattreason hath Mark Fytton, the butcher, been talking?"
"I care not to repeat his words, mine host," replied the duke; "buthe hath spoken in unbecoming terms of his highness and Mistress AnneBoleyn."
"He means not what he says," rejoined the host. "He is a loyal subjectof the king; but he is apt to get quarrelsome over his cups."
"Well said, honest Bryan," cried the duke; "you have one quality of agood landlord--that of a peacemaker. Give the knave a cup of ale, andlet him wash down his foul words in a health to the king, wishing him aspeedy divorce and a new queen, and he shall then sit among us again."
"I do not desire to sit with you, you self-dubbed duke," rejoined Mark;"but if you will doff your fine jerkin, and stand up with me on thegreen, I will give you cause to remember laying hands on me."
"Well challenged, bold butcher!" cried one of Surrey's attendants. "Youshall be made a duke yourself."
"Or a cardinal," cried Mark. "I should not be the first of my brethrenwho has met with such preferment."
"He derides the Church in the person of Cardinal Wolsey!" cried theduke. "He is a blasphemer as well as traitor."
"Drink the king's health in a full cup, Mark," interposed the host,anxious to set matters aright, "and keep your mischievous tongue betweenyour teeth."
"Beshrew me if I drink the king's health, or that of his minion, AnneBoleyn!" cried Mark boldly. "But I will tell you what I will drink.I will drink the health of King Henry's lawful consort, Catherineof Arragon; and I will add to it a wish that the Pope may forge hermarriage chains to her royal husband faster than ever."
"A foolish wish," cried Bryan. "Why, Mark, you are clean crazed!"
"It is the king who is crazed, not me!" cried Mark. "He would sacrificehis rightful consort to his unlawful passion; and you, base hirelings,support the tyrant in his wrongful conduct!"
"Saints protect us!" exclaimed Bryan. "Why, this is flat treason. Mark,I can no longer uphold you."
"Not if you do not desire to share his prison, mine host," cried theDuke of Shoreditch. "You have all heard him call the king a tyrant.Seize him, my masters!"
"Let them lay hands upon me if they dare!" cried the butcher resolutely."I have felled an ox with a blow of my fist before this, and I promiseyou I will show them no better treatment."
Awed by Mark's determined manner, the bystanders kept aloof.
"I command you, in the king's name, to seize him!" roared Shoreditch."If he offers resistance he will assuredly be hanged."
"No one shall touch me!" cried Mark fiercely.
"That remains to be seen," said the foremost of the Earl of Surrey'sattendants. "Yield, fellow!"
"Never!" replied Mark; "and I warn you to keep off."
The attendant, however, advanced; but before he could lay hands on thebutcher he received a blow from his ox-like fist that sent him reelingbackwards for several paces, and finally stretched him at full lengthupon the ground. His companions drew their swords, and would haveinstantly fallen upon the sturdy offender, if Morgan Fenwolf, who, withthe Earl of Surrey, was standing among the spectators, had not rushedforward, and, closing with Mark before the latter could strike a blow,grappled with him, and held him fast till he was secured, and his armstied behind him.
"And so it is you, Morgan Fenwolf, who have served me this ill turn,eh?" cried the butcher, regarding him fiercely. "I now believe all Ihave heard of you."
"What have you heard of him?" asked Surrey, advancing.
"That he has dealings with the fiend--with Herne the Hunter," repliedMark. "If I am hanged for a traitor, he ought to be burnt for a wizard."
"Heed not what the villain says, my good fellow," said the Duke ofShoredit
ch; "you have captured him bravely, and I will take care yourconduct is duly reported to his majesty. To the castle with him! Tothe castle! He will lodge to-night in the deepest dungeon of yonfortification," pointing to the Curfew Tower above them, "there to awaitthe king's judgment; and to-morrow night it will be well for him if heis not swinging from the gibbet near the bridge. Bring him along."
And followed by Morgan Fenwolf and the others, with the prisoner, hestrode up the hill.
Long before this Captain Bouchier had issued from the hostel and joinedthe earl, and they walked together after the crowd. In a few minutes theDuke of Shoreditch reached Henry the Eighth's Gate, where he shouted toa sentinel, and told him what had occurred. After some delay a wicket inthe gate was opened, and the chief persons of the party were allowed topass through it with the prisoner, who was assigned to the custody of acouple of arquebusiers.
By this time an officer had arrived, and it was agreed, at thesuggestion of the Duke of Shoreditch, to take the offender to the CurfewTower. Accordingly they crossed the lower ward, and passing beneath anarchway near the semicircular range of habitations allotted to thepetty canons, traversed the space before the west end of Saint George'sChapel, and descending a short flight of stone steps at the left, andthreading a narrow passage, presently arrived at the arched entrance inthe Curfew, whose hoary walls shone brightly in the moonlight.
They had to knock for some time against the stout oak door before anynotice was taken of the summons. At length an old man, who acted asbellringer, thrust his head out of one of the narrow pointed windowsabove, and demanded their business. Satisfied with the reply, hedescended, and, opening the door, admitted them into a lofty chamber,the roof of which was composed of stout planks, crossed by heavy oakenrafters, and supported by beams of the same material. On the left asteep ladder-like flight of wooden steps led to an upper room, and froma hole in the roof descended a bell-rope, which was fastened to one ofthe beams, showing the use to which the chamber was put.
Some further consultation was now held among the party as to thepropriety of leaving the prisoner in this chamber under the guard of thearquebusiers, but it was at last decided against doing so, and the oldbellringer being called upon for the keys of the dungeon beneath, hespeedily produced them. They then went forth, and descending a flight ofstone steps on the left, came to a low strong door, which they unlocked,and obtained admission to a large octangular chamber with a vaultedroof, and deep embrasures terminated by narrow loopholes. The light ofa lamp carried by the bellringer showed the dreary extent of the vault,and the enormous thickness of its walls.
"A night's solitary confinement in this place will be of infiniteservice to our prisoner," said the Duke of Shoreditch, gazing around."I'll be sworn he is ready to bite off the foolish tongue that hasbrought him to such a pass."
The butcher made no reply, but being released by the arquebusiers, satdown upon a bench that constituted the sole furniture of the vault.
"Shall I leave him the lamp?" asked the bellringer; "he may beguile thetime by reading the names of former prisoners scratched on the walls andin the embrasures."
"No; he shall not even have that miserable satisfaction," returned theDuke of Shoreditch. "He shall be left in the darkness to his own bad andbitter thoughts."
With this the party withdrew, and the door was fastened upon theprisoner. An arquebusier was stationed at the foot of the steps; andthe Earl of Surrey and Captain Bouchier having fully satisfied theircuriosity, shaped their course towards the castle gate. On their waythither the earl looked about for Morgan Fenwolf, but could nowherediscern him. He then passed through the wicket with Bouchier, andproceeding to the Garter, they mounted their steeds, and galloped offtowards Datchet, and thence to Staines and Hampton Court.